For more on this topic, listen to our podcast episode.

‍

There's a quote that often circulates in special education settings:

"Everyone is a genius, but if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid."

Most people share this with good intentions, praising the fish for being a great swimmer and respecting everyone's natural abilities.

As somebody diagnosed with ADHD late in life, I'm going to tell you something that might surprise you: I actually really hate this quote.

Here's why. There are valuable things at the top of that tree—things that come to people who pay their taxes on time and keep track of their driver's license, cell phone, and keys. I respect and celebrate the creativity and innovation that comes with ADHD—it's no accident that so many entrepreneurs have it. But I also want people with ADHD to reach the top of that tree. As a fish.

Sometimes that means somebody else who knows how to climb will need to grab a fishbowl, put the fish in it, and carry them to the top.

Let us be fish because that's where we thrive. But please don't tell us we don't have to reach the top of the tree. We do. Society demands it—and we want to get there too.

If that sounds overwhelming, I promise you: it doesn't have to be. Once you understand what's actually happening in your child's brain—and learn to work with it instead of against it—everything changes.

I was 36 years old, standing in the hallway of the school where I taught fifth grade, having a conversation with one of my eighth-grade students about fidget spinners. My mom, who taught at the same school, overheard us.

She pulled me aside later and said, "I think we missed something."

I went to my doctor and said, "I think I might have ADHD."

He looked at me and said, "Well, yeah."

Apparently, he had known all along. And he thought I knew it already too, and had just developed the skills and strategies to manage it. 

That was a surprising time—to realize at 36 years old that the way my brain worked had a name, had been studied, and had strategies. Before that moment, I just thought I was... Andrea: a little scattered, incredibly passionate about certain things, but completely unable to focus on others.

Two years earlier, my oldest son Alex had been diagnosed with ADHD just before fourth grade. People often ask me, "When did you know Alex had ADHD?"

Alex was always exploring something, and I knew better than to try to guess what. I was constantly finding him somewhere unexpected. One of the most memorable was when he climbed out of his crib, up his dresser (wisely locked and fixed to the wall so he could handle exactly this sort of thing safely), and fell asleep in his top drawer.

So, I always knew Alex had ADHD. The only question was when it would start to negatively impact him.

More recently, teachers suggested my youngest son Dylan might also have ADHD. But this time, I was certain they were wrong. I thought I knew what ADHD looked like. Dylan wasn't like Alex or me.

It turns out, however, that Dylan does have ADHD—just a very different presentation. Understanding these different presentations—and the underlying neurology—completely changed how I approached parenting and teaching my sons.

Understanding the ADHD Brain

What ADHD Actually Is (And What It Isn't)

Let's start with the name itself: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Can we all agree that this is a terrible name?

People with ADHD actually do not have a deficit of attention. They have attention to spare. What they lack is control over what gets that attention. It's like having 50 channels on the television, and someone else controls the remote.

Here’s how the brain works: The back of the brain stores information—everything you've learned and know. The front of the brain—the prefrontal cortex—controls how you use that information, and this is the part impacted by ADHD.

ADHD doesn't impact intelligence at all. As Dr. Russell Barkley, one of the leading ADHD experts, notes, you can get a 36 on the ACT and still do stupid things. If you have ADHD, that essentially becomes the story of your life.

The prefrontal cortex is responsible for executive function—your ability to self-monitor and self-adjust. People with ADHD love analogies, so I think of it like this: imagine a tiny child sitting in a big executive's desk, trying to run a company. That's what it feels like.

The 30% Rule

When Alex was first diagnosed, no one explained the developmental delay in executive function for people with ADHD—about 30 percent behind their peers (I round this up to one third because it's easier math).

That means if you have a 12-year-old with ADHD, their prefrontal cortex is only developed to about that of an 8-year-old. Would you have the same expectations for a sixth grader as a second grader? Would you expect a second grader to organize their own day or find papers they put somewhere last week?

This gap only gets bigger as they get older. By age 15, they've developed to about a 10-year-old's executive function. They're making progress, but are now five years behind their peers instead of four. By the time they're 18—maybe leaving home for college—they still have the executive function of someone starting middle school.

This is why scaffolding is essential and needs to be there longer than most people think.

Why "But This Is Important!" Doesn't Work

Neurotypical people have what's called an importance-based nervous system. ADHD people have an interest-based nervous system.

This means when you tell a neurotypical child, "This homework is important for your grade," their brain can engage with that. When you tell an ADHD child the same thing, their brain literally cannot access motivation through importance alone.

ADHD brains need one of four things to engage:

• Interest (They find it genuinely fascinating)
• Urgency (The deadline is NOW)
• Novelty (It's new and different)
• Challenge (It's difficult enough to be stimulating)

This is why your ADHD student can hyperfocus for six hours on building something in Minecraft but can't focus for six minutes on math homework.

When structuring learning at home, use this to your advantage. Can you make the math lesson about their interests? Add a time element? Try a new approach? Make it just challenging enough to be engaging?

Listen to Andrea's podcast episode on ADHD

A Homeschooling Framework for ADHD

The following strategies come from years of teaching students with ADHD, raising two sons with different presentations of ADHD, and managing my own ADHD as an adult—some learned from experts, some from trial and error.

Strategies for Parents

1. Build the Fishbowl

Let’s go back to the fish and the tree… Your job isn't to teach the fish to climb. Your job is to build the fishbowl that gets them to the top.

That means you're going to be the external executive function while their internal one catches up. You're going to be the one who remembers the field trip permission slip, sets the timer, and breaks the project into steps.

Not forever. But for longer than you think.

When Alex was in middle school, I'd have him come into my classroom during passing time. He'd drop off what he didn't need and pick up what he did for the next class. Was he capable of keeping track of this himself? In theory, yes. Did he? No. So I became the system.

2. Expect the Executive Function Age, Not the Chronological Age

Once I started thinking about Alex as having the executive function of someone five years younger, everything made more sense.

Would I expect an 8-year-old to wake up on time without help? No. Would I expect a 10-year-old to plan out their entire day? No. Would I expect a 12-year-old to navigate college applications independently? No.

So why was I expecting these things from my teenager with ADHD? This doesn't mean lowering expectations for learning. Alex is brilliant. He can handle advanced coursework. But it does mean adjusting expectations for managing that learning.

3. Understand the Wall of Awful

Every time your ADHD student tries to do something and fails, that failure gets added to an emotional wall they have to climb over before they can even start the task again.

Brendan Mahan of ADHD Essentials calls this "The Wall of Awful." For neurotypical people, starting an unpleasant task might feel like stepping over a small curb. For people with ADHD, it feels like scaling a 40-foot wall—a wall built from every past failure, criticism, and time they disappointed someone.

This is why your bright, capable kid can sit at the table for two hours without starting their work. They're not defiant. They're staring at a wall they don't know how to climb.

The solution isn't to lecture them about the importance of the task (that just makes the wall higher). The solution is to help them get over the wall:

• Sit with them when they start (body doubling)
• Break the task into the smallest possible first step
• Remove distractions before they begin
• Create novelty (new location, music, fidget toy)
• Acknowledge the wall exists without judgment

Even successful adults with ADHD need systems to manage this wall.

4. Simplify Everything

One day, Dylan was working on a homework assignment using a visual graphic organizer—one of those worksheets that lays out all the steps in boxes and arrows. Usually, these work well for my kids because they help get what's in their brain out onto paper.

But this time, it wasn't working. Dylan could see all the steps at once—the whole project spread out in front of him. And instead of being helpful, it was overwhelming. He started to shut down.

That's when I realized: the organizer itself had become the problem. It was supposed to simplify things, but all those boxes and arrows were just more visual information his brain had to process.

So I grabbed some sticky notes and covered up everything except the one section he was working on.

Suddenly, he could focus. His brain didn't have to spend energy sorting through all that visual clutter. He just had to think about the one step in front of him.

That moment taught me something crucial: Don't give your kid with ADHD more to manage. Give them less.

Every organizational system you add is one more thing they have to remember to use. Instead:

• Reduce choices
• Remove obstacles
• Make the path obvious
• Use visual systems (what they can see, they can remember)

We got rid of the fancy planner and used a single sheet of paper on the fridge. We got rid of the complicated morning routine chart and put three things by the door: backpack, water bottle, shoes. Less is more.

5. Advocate for Accommodations

Accommodations aren't cheating. They're leveling the playing field.

If a kid can't see the board, we give them glasses. We don't say, "You need to learn to see better." We just give them glasses so they can learn the math.

ADHD accommodations work the same way. Extra time on tests accounts for processing speed impacted by executive function deficits. Fidgets provide the sensory input needed to focus.

When Dylan was in first grade, his teacher didn't want to give him accommodations because she didn't want him to "become dependent on them."

I said, "I wear glasses. I am completely dependent on them. I'm okay with that, because the alternative is walking around unable to see."

Your kid isn't going to "outgrow" ADHD. The goal isn't to eliminate the need for support—it's to help them identify what support they need and how to access it. That's not dependence. That's self-advocacy.

Choosing Curriculum and Tools

Here's where homeschooling becomes a game-changer for ADHD students: you have the freedom to change what isn't working.

You Don't Need "ADHD Curriculum"

I'm going to tell you something that might surprise you: you don't need special ADHD curriculum. You need curriculum that's actually engaging.

In traditional school, if the curriculum isn't working, the assumption is that the student is the problem. In homeschooling, if the curriculum isn't working, you can change the curriculum.

The curriculum is a tool. If your hammer doesn't work, you get a new hammer. You don't sit there hitting your thumb over and over thinking, "I must be bad at hammering."

What to Look For

Instead of searching for "ADHD-friendly curriculum," look for these qualities:

• Interest-based learning: Can you tie subjects to your student's interests? If they love video games, use game design to teach math and coding. ADHD brains engage through interest, so use that.
• Hands-on and experiential: The more your student can touch, build, move, and do, the better. Passive learning (sitting and listening) is the enemy of ADHD brains.
• Novelty and variety: Switch it up. Different subjects in different locations. Math at the kitchen table, science in the backyard. The novelty helps engagement.
• Shorter segments: Instead of hour-long blocks, try 15-20 minute segments with movement breaks. Work with the ADHD brain's natural rhythm.
• Choice within structure: Give your student some control. "We need to do math today. Do you want to do it at 10 AM or 2 PM? Kitchen table or back porch?" Choice creates engagement.

The Freedom to Change

This is the biggest gift of homeschooling for ADHD students: if it's not working, you can change it immediately.

Your kid hates the math curriculum? Switch it. Try Khan Academy. Try Teaching Textbooks. Try writing math problems about Pokémon. In traditional school, this flexibility doesn't exist. In homeschooling, it's your superpower.

And here's what I tell parents who worry about switching curricula: the goal is learning, not completing a specific curriculum. If your student learns place value from three different programs instead of one, they still learned place value. The path doesn't matter—the destination does.

Tools and Resources That Work

Beyond curriculum, here are specific tools that make a real difference:

• For gamifying learning: Habitica is my favorite tool to help gamify tasks and routines. It turns your to-do list into a role-playing game where you can level up and earn rewards, providing the novelty and challenge that ADHD brains need.
• For time management: Visual timers (the kind where students can see time passing) help with time blindness. ADHD students have no internal sense of time, so they need external cues.
• For working memory: Post-it systems work better than digital planners. If it's out of sight, it doesn't exist for an ADHD brain. Use Post-its on the bathroom mirror, the front door, the computer screen—wherever they'll actually see them.
• For focus during work: Fidgets aren't toys—they're tools. Many ADHD students need sensory input to focus. Let them use a fidget spinner, squeeze ball, or even chew gum while studying.
• For task initiation: Body doubling. This is when someone else is simply present while your child works. You don't have to help—your presence creates accountability and reduces that wall of resistance.
• For math: Khan Academy, Teaching Textbooks, Math-U-See, or even creating custom word problems about their special interests.
• For reading: Audiobooks paired with physical books. Many ADHD students comprehend better when they can listen and read simultaneously.

How OpenEd Supports ADHD Students

This flexibility is exactly what OpenEd was designed to enable. As an OpenEd family, you have:

Complete curriculum freedom: You can switch math programs mid-year if needed. You can try different approaches without bureaucracy or judgment.

Personalized pacing: Your ADHD student can spend extra time on topics that are hard and move quickly through topics that interest them. No one's forcing them to stay with the class pace when their brain doesn't work that way.

Built-in support: Access to tutoring when they need extra help. Access to special education services if they qualify. The scaffolding is there without the rigidity of traditional school.

Real-world learning: Field trips, mentorships, project-based learning—all the hands-on, interest-based approaches that ADHD brains thrive on.

OpenEd recognizes what I learned raising my sons: ADHD students don't need to change who they are to succeed. They need an environment that adapts to how they learn best.

The Fish and the Tree, Revisited

I started by telling you I hate that quote about the fish and the tree. And I do.

But here's what I believe instead:

Don't judge the fish on its ability to climb. Build the fish a fishbowl, and carry that fish to the top of the tree yourself.

Because there are good things at the top of that tree. And your fish—your brilliant, creative, innovative fish—deserves to access them.

Not by becoming something they're not, but by being exactly who they are, with the support they need to get there.

You can be that adult for your child. Stop fighting the fish. Build the fishbowl.

For more resources on homeschooling with ADHD, visit OpenEd.co or listen to our full podcast series on ADHD and open education.